


The Backup Plan

by StrivingArtist



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Modern Bucky Barnes, Mutually Unrequited, Pining, because i'm me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-21 16:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrivingArtist/pseuds/StrivingArtist
Summary: Tony Stark is a strong, independent young Omega, who doesn't need an Alpha. The press has been writing about that for years.The Board disagrees - Worse, Obie disagrees.And that means Tony has to scramble to find someone he can bribe into staying by him until Pepper can fix this mess.It's too bad that the only Alpha he actually wants, an army vet who lost an arm pulling Tony out of the desert, is nice enough to help, even if there's no way Bucky would ever really want him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DreamcatchersDaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamcatchersDaughter/gifts).



He was in the squeaky chair.

It was the most comfortable chair in the conference room, and it was his, to the point that he’d once snarled at the visiting president of a company that dared to sit in it. The president had been almost a foot taller than him and an alpha, and Tony’s love for that chair was enough to win the day.

Still.

Tony wished he’d been sitting somewhere else today.

Then, he wouldn’t have to be locked in place so the Board couldn’t tell how thrown he was by their announcement. If he shifted, it was going to squeak, and in the post-declaration silence, Tony wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“I own a controlling stake. I know I do, but let’s review. Miss Potts, do I own a controlling stake in Stark Industries?”

“You do, Mister Stark.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Potts. As you know gentlemen, Miss Potts is never wrong, so perhaps you’d like to explain why you think that you have to right to make that kind of demand.”

“Mister Stark, an unmated Omega in a position like yours--”

“Has been legal since 1949 and was upheld by the Supreme Court in three different cases, the most recent of which was only eight years ago. So one more time, Mr Jacobson, what makes you think you can threaten me with anything just because I’m single?”

Wincing, Jacobson slid the folio across the table.

Three lines in, Tony snapped it shut.

“Right. Should have known dear old dad left you guys a failsafe.”

“Mr Stark, we voted to allow the slow reduction of our weapons manufacturing three years ago, but in the year since the incident in Afghanistan, your actions have been excessive to the point that there are articles about the hysterical nature of --”

“Hysterical? Falling back on stereotypes? With me? Really? You think that just because of what happened I’m some wilting omega flower now?”

“Tony, my boy.” Obie spoke up from the far end of the table for the first time. Dammit. If Obie was on their side, Tony wasn’t going to be able to fight this, shy of a multi-year public-facing court case. He’d win, but it would tank the company in the meantime. He couldn’t do that when he was so close to getting the arc reactor fully functional. “You got snatched out of the middle of a military convoy and it took three months to find you because you didn’t have a mate. You didn’t even have an alpha you’d stuck by long enough to point us in the right direction. We’re just looking out for your safety.”

Obie was the negotiator for SI, and Pepper handled the contract reading so Tony could keep engineering and designing, but Tony didn’t go to that miserable business prep school for nothing.

“I don’t see why I should agree. I have a whole floor full of lawyers on retainer. Maybe I should give them a reason for being retained.” Tony answered, overly light.

“Tony,” Obie sighed with a chuckle, “What are your conditions?”

“Partnered, not mated.”

“Must be to an Alpha, then.”

“Two months grace time and I can restart that grace if the Alpha is a prick.”

“You’ll just use that to stretch this for the next decade, Tony, I know you. Two months, no extensions.”

“Three months.”

“Done. You have anything else to add, Tony?”

Slowly, letting the squeak in the chair stretch until the board was visibly irritated, Tony leaned forwards and answered, “Plenty.”

 

* * *

 

 

The deal sucked.

No way of dodging that, and the language in the company bylaws was airtight.

So when he left the conference room four hours later, he pulled out his phone in the elevator, and sent off a text to complain.

**Tony: Hey quick favor, help improve my day: dump me back in the desert and drop a line to the Ten Rings about where I am**

As he reached the penthouse, his phone chirped.

**Buckaroo: Sure thing, Tones. maybe you’ll find my arm while you’re wandering around out there.**

Tony frowned at the screen. If Bucky was mentioning the arm, it meant it was a bad day, which meant he didn’t need Tony whining at him. Before Tony could shift gear and brush his complaint off to redirect to cheering up his friend, another message arrived.

**Buckaroo: But really, you had a board meeting today. What happened that’s got you in a mood?**

With a smoothie and a bag of cheese crisps, dropping onto the couch, he hit the button for speaker and dropped his phone in his lap.

“Hey Tones, more than you wanted to type, or are you working in your secret lair?”

“Ok, one, if I had a secret lair, it would be amazing, don’t pretend it wouldn’t, and two, I didn’t want to type all this.” And he wanted to hear Bucky’s voice to get a better read on how bad a day it had been for him, but that wasn’t going to be mentioned.

“I’ll only support you having a secret evil laboratory if I can be the Igor to your Dr Frankenstein.”

“The squishy sciences deserve the hate that science fiction gives them.”

“So you’ve told me.”

“Well, I’m right.”

“They didn’t try to interfere in your super secret project did they?”

“Don’t even know it exists.”

“Did Mrs Rodriguez do the thing where she only takes a quarter of a donut?”

“It was a lunch meeting.”

“Did someone say something mean about Star Trek?”

“How would that even come up in a board meeting?” Tony laughed.

“Tony, you know I’ll keep making things up all night, but if you want to actually tell me instead of letting me tease you, you can stop me any time.”

“Maybe I like to let you feel included in the events of the board meeting.”

“Did they print out their emails before reading them again?

“They’re forcing me to get a partner. An alpha. An alpha partner.” Tony forced out all at once.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. I have three months to find and partner with some alpha or they’re going to exercise some bullshit line in the company’s rules that can force me out because my dad was that much of an asshole, and even Obie is on this so there’s no way I can distract them all with raises and make this go away.”

“Tony.”

“And they’re claiming it’s because of Afghanistan, since I didn’t have a mate so they couldn’t use the bond to find me, and they’re saying they just want to make me be safe, but they’ve never liked the shift to commercial tech and away from bombs. And. It’s not like I was impossible to find. I was found. Your team found me. So why would I need an Alpha getting in my life? I haven’t needed one in the last twenty five years, I don’t need one now. Except for a couple times a year when toys aren’t cutting it. But that is not indicative of a larger need.”

“Tones.”

“If they think that I’ll meet some Alpha and suddenly decide to make weapons of mass destruction again, they don’t know who they’re talking to. I have magazine spreads dedicated to how I am a proud independent omega who doesn’t need--”

“Need a knot. Yes, Tony. You’ve told me. You read me excerpts while we were in the hospital. I know. And once again, gotta remind you that I already  believe ya and I don’t need to be linked to your public sex tapes. I already know you don’t need an alpha. Tony, what are you gonna do about _this_ though?”

That was the no-nonsense James Buchanan Barnes that Tony absolutely had not developed a crush on when the soldier had shown up in the cave, and immediately handed him a gun and a joke because it was a Stark 480. Bucky, who winked and flirted with Tony while medics swarmed them both. It wasn’t until weeks later that they had to take the sergeant’s arm, and before, during and after, Bucky had been endlessly pragmatic and smiling about it all.

Those talks turned into texting and calls after Tony went home to Manhattan, and Bucky went home to Brooklyn with his shiny new honorable discharge and purple heart.

They still saw each other every other week at some wonderfully terrible diner in the city.

And yeah, maybe sometimes during his heat, Tony was picturing dark hair and piercing eyes and army tattoos, but that was heat and he couldn’t be held responsible for what his brain latched on to during that. Sure, maybe, occasionally, while he was on the phone with this alpha that had never doubted for a second his capabilities, his mind wandered into thoughts of domesticity. But it wasn’t serious.

Because Tony didn’t need or want an alpha.

And because Bucky didn’t want him.

That had been made perfectly clear when Tony’d gotten drunk a month after his return and shown up at Bucky’s apartment in preheat. He’d been needy and pushy and desperate and shoved his way into Bucky’s space. Reeking of stress and panic, Bucky aborted any attempt at a kiss by shoving Tony one-handed against a wall, Happy was called, and Tony was escorted from the building by a grim faced ex-soldier who didn’t speak to him for three weeks after that.

Bucky’s voicemail made it clear that he didn’t want Tony doing that again, but that he didn’t hold it against him, and that he was leaving the friendship in Tony’s court. If Tony wanted to talk, Bucky would pick up.

So, yeah, Tony kept calling Bucky for about a thousand reasons; the pragmatism was just one facet of it.

“There’s a gala on Thursday, I guess I have to attend and start looking for some alpha I can talk into doing what I tell them.”

“Ha. You really don’t know any alphas do you?”

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know that my father was the most famous alpha--”

“The biggest knothead the country has ever seen.” Bucky interrupted.

“Well, he was the that too.”

“Tony. Really. What’re you gonna do?”

“Probably something stupid. Pepper is looking into some options, but the shortest of them would take about six months. Unfortunately, now that Rhodey is partnered to Carol, our MIT vow to each other is off. Pepper would probably agree, but that’s just not right. I was kind of serious about trawling the galas for the next few months. Damn, it would be wrong to ask Rhodey and Carol to break up just so I can cash in a promise from college freshman Rhodey, right?”

“Very wrong.”

“Well. I could always hire an actor. Maybe I’ll get a Chris. There’s plenty to choose from and all of them look like they were carved out of stone so at least that’d be pleasant.”

“This all sounds reasonable. Not at all like it would blow up in your face.”

“When do things ever -- nope, stop, I already heard it, I know. Don’t say it. Stop laughing, Buck. James. Stop that. I already know. Me and explosions.”

Bucky giggled a while longer, ending with a sincere, “Let me know if there’s anything I can help with, Tones, you know I’m in your corner. Even if you want me to set you up with Stevie.”

“Thanks, but no. Absolutely not. That’d be a disaster. We’d start a civil war. We already almost did. Do you remember what your unit said to me? Thanks, no. Nope. Not having that. All american, all alpha blonde beefcake still isn’t worth it.” Tony let the line go quiet for a moment, hoping, despite knowing Bucky wasn’t going to spontaneously offer to be his stand in, then he groaned and slurped down the tail end of his smoothie. “Bored of talking about the idiots on my Board. Hear that? Bored of my Board.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You like it. Anyway. How’s the job hunt going?”

“Terrible. Same as yesterday.”

“Heard back from that bookstore?”

“Didn’t get it.”

“Forklift driver thing?”

“Needs two hands.”

“Right. So what are you applying to today?”

Tony sank further into the chair and grinned as Bucky started talking about the newest options in his effort to find a job.

  


* * *

 

 

The diner was quieter than most things in New York, probably because it looked like a front for the sale of really cheap meth. They also had the best southern comfort food he’d ever had, so he was willing to overlook a drug deal or nine. Their biscuits more than made up for it.

And the gravy.

And whatever they did to the green beans and okra.

Also the pie.

Of course, Bucky would have been here even if the biscuits were straight out of a can so long as it meant he could see Tony.

He wasn’t proud of that, but he wasn’t denying it.

Not that the one armed, broke, thirty year old army vet had any chance with the genius twenty five year old billionaire inventor that had so many magazine covers he barely noticed when a new one came out. Bucky had come to terms with that months ago. Actually, he knew the exact moment. Waking up from the last surgery, missing a left arm, that was when he accepted that he’d never have Tony. Before that, when they’d talked through the nights and flirted like it was oxygen, Bucky let himself hope. Then the infection got worse, and the surgeons gave him the news, and he woke up inadequate.

It was fine.

Or at least, it was survivable.

This most recent nonsense with the Board of Directors and Tony’s rotating wheel of terrible Alphas was a particular challenge to the survivability claim though. But dammit, he was Tony’s friend, and if that meant the guy wanted to call and tell him about the overly handsy Alpha woman who had tried to blackmail him thirty minutes after meeting him, or the man that hadn’t been able to keep up with Tony’s job description let alone his rambling, then that was what Bucky would do.

He’d even grin and bear it if Tony came in and said that date four with Ty had been a raving success and they would go public in a week.

Bucky would do whatever it was that Tony needed. Partly because Tony was so pretty it gave Bucky a headache.

But that was the superficial.

Despite the denials, Bucky knew that Wounded Warriors didn’t usually give out stipends that large. He also knew that after he asked, Wounded Warriors found itself much better funded and able to massively increase _all_ of their aid. Bucky had spent enough nights listening to Tony ramble through a description of his project to know that his enthusiasm and desire to do good was genuine. He’d sent texts at three am and three pm and everything in between saying he needed to be distracted, and Tony was always there for him.

Bucky also knew that it was because of Afghanistan.

Bucky had quite literally pulled Tony out of a hole in a cave full of terrorists.

The gratitude was, if not expected, then explainable.

Sipping at his coffee, perusing the menu, Bucky took a few deep breaths and thanked modern science for short term suppressants. Two pills, and he got twelve hours without his scent broadcasting his every reaction. The military preferred they only be used in combat, but VA docs would write prescriptions for vets that were reintegrating.

They were critical when he was meeting Tony in person.

The first time he met Tony, the man was, understandably a mess, and his scent matched that. Without the in field suppressants Bucky probably would have dropped into a rage and never come out of it, Even with them, Bucky had a headache that lasted until the pain in his arm took precedent.

Of course, at the time, Bucky didn’t know what to expect from Tony’s scent, so the rotten meat smell had been all he could notice. But, even at his happiest, Tony didn’t smell like a normal omega. There weren’t flowers or sweetness or anything that would get marketed as an omega scent. Bucky didn’t know if it was a long standing situation, or a result of his kidnapping, but Tony’s scent reminded him of a whetstone. Stone and metal shavings. Even when heat started to twist his scent, that metallic tang didn’t fade. Spice and caramelized sugar leached into it, but they were additions, not replacements.

Bucky had always been a fan of blades, but with the new mental connection, sharpening his usually meant he had to take a cold shower after.

Speaking of needing a cold shower.

Either Tony drove over in a convertible, or he’d spent the entire trip scrubbing his hands through his hair. It was stuck up in every direction, and the band shirt of the day was wrinkled.

“Coffee?”

“Here.” Bucky surrendered his, and waved to the waitress with a smile to get a second.

“Okay, look, I promised myself I wasn’t going to, and this is really terrible and I know you’re gonna hate me for it, but I’m running out of time and Ty is a bag of dicks with a really good facade, and Bucky, please, I’ll give you literally anything, but seriously, I need you to do this for me.”

No.

No no no.

“Tony, you know that I--”

“It’s not mating! I wouldn’t do that to you. Partnered. Scent marking. You’d need to come to a few events. Give me a hug before major meetings, that’s it. I can talk my way out of the rest. It’ll only be for a few months until we get the new project launched and the rest of the weapons shut down. Then they’ll be declawed and it’ll be done. And if that doesn’t do it, then Pepper thinks she’ll have a solution done and dusted within nine months. And I’m sorry, and I know you won’t be comfortable, and I already owe you four summer homes and a supermodel girlfriend for what you did for me in Afghanistan, but Bucky, _please_.”

If his scent wasn’t on lockdown, Tony would have known how Bucky was yo-yoing from thrilled to terrified to horny to horror to delighted to disgusted with himself. Tony was nothing but fear and stress. The red in his eyes was either from tears or sleep deprivation or from too many hours working, but unlike the way that usually made him seem adorably manic, right now it was nothing but desperate.

The Board’s three month deadline was three weeks away, and apparently, after a month with Ty, the guy had pulled the rug out.

“Tony, this isn’t -- Steve is on leave starting next week, he’ll do it for you, and then you’ve got a ready excuse with him being in a warzone for why he’s not around.”

“We’d start a war. Mass casualties. You don’t want that.”

“What happened to the rent-a-Chris plan?”

“The only one that was smarter than a hot bowl of soup has a mate.”

“Tony, I’m really not comfortable with….”

The waitress set a new cup of coffee on the table between them, topping off Tony’s, and it gave Bucky an excuse to trail into silence. Fidgeting, the omega across the table looked like one, maybe for the first time since the cave. Tony didn’t do that shy, small, shrinking thing. He was loud and brash and unapologetic. He was a force of nature. The vulnerability he allowed Bucky to see in his eyes was stunning, painful, and undeniable. His voice was sincere.

“Buck, I know you aren’t, and I’m sorry to even ask. I promise I won’t push you for anything. I promise. If I had anyone else, I… trust me, this is my last choice. But I can’t lose the company, I can’t let them restart the weapons, and I’m running out of time.”

“Steve is--”

“A week, just this week, until he gets back, and if you’re still miserable, then I’ll, wait, I don’t know how to bribe Steve, pay congress members to vote honorably? Is that a thing? Doesn’t matter, I’ll find something. Bucky, you know I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice. You’ve heard about the last, what, sixteen Alphas? All of them have been -- I can’t. I don’t trust them. And with you, I know I’m safe. I know you aren’t the kind of alpha that-- Bucky, _please_?”

This was hell.

This was Bucky’s very own hell.

Torture and/or root canals sounded better.

Tony was asking, begging, for Bucky take on the role as a last choice. That hurt. It was true, but it hurt to think about himself compared to the literal movie stars and prime alpha specimens that Tony had been seeing. Bucky, missing an arm and surviving on charity, unemployed yet again, was Tony’s least worst option.

Tony was Bucky’s favorite daydream.

It was going to hurt. Every second of it.

“Okay, Tony. Tell me what you need me to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

“Hear--- B--y? Bu--- what --- doing? --- hear me?” There was a high squeal as the signal adjusted, a crackle of static, and then the satt phone cleared, letting Bucky hear his best friend. “Ow. Bucky, can you hear me now?”

“Stevie.” 

“Are you okay? I’m on leave in a week, what happened? Why’d you send me that SOS? Do I need to run? What happened?”

A message saying nothing but EOTL from either of them, delivered by any method - text, email, carrier pigeon, smoke signal - was their private password. End of the Line. It was the e-brake on the car and the In Case of Emergency Break Glass. It was from high school, decided on after Bucky failed to pick up the phone when Steve’s mom got sick. They’d used it three times in the twelve years since then.

Bucky sent it as he walked out of the diner and saw Tony drive away. 

Steve called him two hours later. 

Since the guy was on a black ops base in a country the US wasn’t actually supposed to be in, the two hour turnaround was disturbingly fast. 

“I fucked up.”

“What happened? I might be able to move my leave but I’m still twenty four hours travel out. Do I need to steal a jet?” Steve was joking. Hopefully. 

“I’m pretending to be dating Tony.”

“You what?”

“Tony asked me to be his fake partner.”

“You’re with Tony!?”

“ _ Fake _ Dating!”

“That’s amazing! You finally asked!”

“Dammit. Fake! Steve! Fake! Not real! Pretending!”

“What? Bucky, you’re breaking --- amazing news --- wanted him since --- Buck --- proud --- week --- cake.”

Another high crackling whine and the call cut out entirely. 

Good news. Bad news. Steve wasn’t going to steal a plane and jump out the back of it to save Bucky from unknown danger. Steve thought Tony was actually interested in Bucky. 

He’d explain it in a week and hope his friend could fix it. Hope his friend would do him the biggest favor of his life and partner Tony.

He’d explain it and Steve would help. 

If Bucky survived that long. 

 

* * *

 

“Pepper, I fucked up.”

“Hello to you too, Tony. Is this a ‘things are on fire’ sort of phone call, or a ‘National Enquirer has the tapes’ phone call?”

“I found someone, an Alpha, for this Board thing. I found one, but I fucked up.”

“Okay.” She answered, drawing the word out in a question. “Is it the person or how you did it that’s the problem? I know you were looking at Alpha escort services last week, don’t pretend that’s not what you were doing on that website. Did someone find out that you’re planning to fake this? Because honestly the Board won’t care as long as you meet their terms. As long as you’re partnered I don’t think they’d care, shy of you partnering with someone from AIM.”

“S’Bucky.” Tony mumbled, not wanting to admit it to her.

“Oh, god, what happened to Bucky? Is he alright?”

“Pep, no, he’s fine. Kinda. He’s not in trouble. I meant: Bucky is an Alpha.”

“Yes, I know and we both know that he isn’t -- wait. Tony, you didn’t!”

“I did.”

Silence hung in the air like an accusation. The maserati was a bubble of quiet in the city, parked beside an expired meter.  

“And he agreed?”

Tony thought back to the way Bucky had curled into himself when he realized what was being asked. The way that he’d stammered slightly. The way he’d so clearly wanted to find a way out of agreeing. The way he’d scented like nothing, just like always, because Bucky took a suppressant any time he was going to be around Tony. And the way he’d forced himself to say yes once Tony begged. 

“Yeah, he…. Yeah, he agreed. He’s gonna move in tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t you sound happier then?”

“He knows about the board. He knows it isn’t real.”

“Oh.” Pepper knew, and the exhalation carried the weight of all the times they’d spent talking around but never about how much Bucky meant to him. “Oh, Tony, what can I do?”

“You said the lawyers think they have a way out of this? Tell me what they have and how fast they can do it.”

“Where are you?”

“Queens.”

“Get back to the tower, and I’ll walk you through it. Bring me a boba from the good shop on five.”

“Thank you, Miss Potts.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Tony.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

“Nat, blink or something, you’re freaking me out.” Bucky mumbled, fiddling with the label on his beer. 

“I’ll blink when you answer my question.”

“Bodies don’t work like that.”

“The KGB taught me how to override my body’s needs during an interrogation.”

“Nat, you weren’t in the KGB, you grew up in Atlantic City. Seriously, blink.”

“Answer the question.”

“Nat.”

“James.”

“Because he asked me to.”

Natasha finally blinked. Bucky shivered. The accent was an affectation, but that didn’t make it less creepy when she came over all international assassin and stared you down like she could see into your soul. 

“He asked you?”

“Yeah.”

“To be his Alpha?”

“Yeah.”

“But only to satisfy his Executive Board’s sexist demands?”

“Why are you recapping, Nat?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense and I am looking for where it falls apart.”

“He said he asked me because I was his ‘last choice’.”

“He said those words?”

“Yeah.” That still hurt. No sign of it stopping any time soon. 

She hesitated, which was already unusual, then asked gently, “Does he know how you feel about him?” When Bucky hesitated before answering, that gentleness melted away. “James, if he asked this of you knowing that you’ve been half in love with him for a year, I will fill his home with wasps and fill his cars with rats.”

“Nat.”

“New York sewer rats, James, the mean ones.”

“Natasha.”

“You know I will, James.”

“I’m not doubting you. But he wouldn’t. If he knew, he… Tony wouldn’t do that. Not to anyone. He doesn’t know. The doc at the VA got me the suppressants. He doesn’t know.”

Nat leaned back in her chair with a calculating expression.

If she and Steve ever owned up to their relationship, they would probably conquer the world before the week was done. Steve had been helping Nat with her heats for six years, they were fiercely protective of each other, and if they thought no one was looking, they’d curl up on the couch with Nat in Steve’s lap and whisper to each other for hours. It was something Bucky learned on accident when he and Steve were on leave, and it took a full year of pestering to get an honest answer out of the man. Their arrangement was great for them both. 

If they got together, they’d be incredible. 

So it was a selfish thing that Bucky was thrilled they weren’t. 

He needed Steve to come home on leave for a month, and agree to be Tony’s faux Alpha. He needed his best friend to partner with the guy he’d loved for months, and he needed to be sure that Tony would never know. 

“Suppressants?”

“Yeah.”

“You know you can’t continue those if this is going to work.”

“I know.”

“James. He trusts you enough to ask for this. You are friends. Why not tell him how you feel?” The suppressant was starting to wear off, and Bucky’s panic saturated the air with a sharp tang. “It will not be as bad as you think.” 

“If it’s only half as bad as I think, it would be unbearable.” Bucky snapped, “Do you know how many times he’s told me he doesn’t want an alpha? How many times he’s told me how much he appreciates that I’m not trying to own him or claim him? How many times he’s joked that he’d rather go live in the mountains of Montana without internet or electricity than find a mate? Nat. He hates being an omega. He hates that people think they know something about him because of it. He hates that he can’t hide his emotions, and he hates the idea of an alpha being able to track him. He hates this. Hates what the Board is forcing him to do, and if he thinks for a second that I’d want to maintain it one second longer than this facade requires he would run the other direction so fast he’d break the sound barrier.

“So no, Nat, I’m not going to tell him.”

“What are you going to do then?”

“Help him.” Bucky whispered, all the fight melting away, “And hope he never knows.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

The first time Tony cleaned the penthouse, it was unnecessary. He had a service. It was already clean. The second time was to distract himself. The third was anxiety. Instead of cleaning it a fourth time, and having to admit that he was acting very omega at the thought of Bucky moving in with him for the next few months, Tony retreated to the shop, and opened a new project folder. 

The thought had been in the back of his head for months, listening to Bucky’s stories about the challenges of only having one hand, so it wasn’t surprising when he started drafting the basics of an arm. 

He didn’t have a plan for the motion, or the interface, or if it was even possible to have more than rudimentary action in it. There were a lot of late nights of reading ahead of him. 

Maybe a phone call to Johns Hopkins. If they didn't want to talk him, he could donate money until they changed their minds.

Tony had to make up for pushing Bucky into this. 

God, it was unforgivable. 

And what was revolutionizing an industry compared to forcing an alpha into a partnership?

That kind of behavior was what omegas in Austenan novels did to show that they were amoral garbage. And here Tony was, not just manipulating some  _ random  _ Alpha into spending months at his side, which was already appalling, but the only Alpha he would have considered keeping for real. This was worse. Because there was a tiny corner of Tony’s brain that kept whispering what if. 

What if Pepper’s plan didn’t work?

What if the Board decided he needed a Mate?

What if the plan had to last years?

What if he could have this forever?

Twenty five years old and he’d met three alphas he would even consider letting into his life. Rhodey was partnered. Pepper wasn’t interested in that kind of life. And then there was Bucky. Who had made it clear he didn’t want Tony as his omega. Who was doing this because Tony begged. Who didn’t want to be here. Who’d never want to talk to Tony again after this was done. 

So it mattered even more that Tony get going on the repayment. 

They weren’t going to say anything publicly for a week, and the more Tony thought about that, the more likely it seemed that Bucky was going to run screaming the minute the week they’d agreed on expired. Steve was not an option. Pretty as they’d look together on Page Six, they’d also get into daily screaming matches, and that didn’t sell the story he needed to sell. So after this week, Tony would find the first gold digging alpha he could, ignore their less savory traits, get them into a partnership, and then pay them to go away after Pepper fixed it. 

His hands froze on the screens. 

If it was a foregone conclusion then he should proceed to it immediately. Today. Call Bucky, cancel the terrible plan, and get started on the one that might work. 

Futurist. 

No sense in wasting time on something that was a guaranteed failure. 

A tap, and the call rang. 

God this was going to hurt. 

“Hey Tony, did you want me to pick up bagels on my way or something?”

“I changed --” 

Tony froze, eyes locked on the arm on the screen in front of him. Keeping Bucky forever had never been on the table. Not really. No matter what his brain liked to whisper. This thing that he’d fantasized about was exactly that. A fantasy. Could he really give up the week of a life he’d wanted for? Could he really let go of his only chance to have Bucky wrapped around him, to have the Alpha he actually wanted, even if it wasn’t real? 

Well. No one ever accused Tony of being slow to act. 

“Tones?”

“Sorry, code was misbehaving.”

“You in your secret lair?”

“I am in my shop.”

“So what did you change?”

“Uh, the sheets. I changed the sheets for you. Figured I’d get a headstart, and then the cleaning service told me I did it wrong. How do you even put a sheet on wrong? But I did. And they redid it. Which is what I pay them for I suppose. Anyway. Where are you. That was the actual question, reason. That’s why there was calling. Where are you?”

“In the car you sent for me even though I told you not to do that.”

“Yes, but where?”

“Just got onto the island. Another hour probably. There’s some kind of parade in the way.”

“It is a wednesday, why is--”

“Never stopped anyone before.”

“Fair.”

“So you want me to bring bagels or something? There’s a place right next to me. Pretty sure I could get out of the car, get the bagels and get back to the car without Happy getting away from me. He’d have moved maybe a hundred feet.”

Tony could hear Happy objecting in the background. 

“Yeah, Knock yourself out, Buckaroo.”

 

* * *

 

Despite seeing each other a couple times a month, and talking or texting daily, despite the fact that Bucky had moved into the tower that afternoon, they had probably only touched a dozen times since getting out of the desert. Between their combined anxieties, and Tony’s fear that once he started, he’d never be able to stop, it wasn’t a thing. Or maybe it had become a Thing™. Now that they were going to do this, Tony needed to spend a few hours wrapped in Bucky’s scent. And his arms. Ideally, with as little clothing in the way as possible to accelerate the Partnership into something the Board would detect and accept. 

Excitement kept waffling into nausea. 

Hugging Bucky? Great. 

Naked hugging Bucky? So great it was hard to breathe. 

Naked hugging Bucky to induce a bond he wouldn’t get to keep? Terrible. 

It wasn’t as formal a thing as Mating since no one was getting bitten, and there wouldn’t be any physical marks, but Partnering required even  _ more  _ physical contact. In truth, partnering was really the first nine steps of mating, only skipping out on mutual bites exchanged during a heat or rut. 

People that actually cared for each other would slip into partnership without noticing. 

They’d spend a few weeks or months dating, and the natural progression of a relationship, cuddling and kissing and sharing, would form a bond. 

Tony and Bucky had to force this into existence. Quickly.

“Alright, get over here, we can’t just awkward our way into this, Buckaroo.” They’d been staring silently at each other for what had subjectively been four and a half years after Bucky unpacked. 

Exhaling in the slow controlled way that Tony knew was a remnant of his time in the army, Bucky nodded, and edged his way from behind the counter. 

“Tony, I’m…”

“There’s no pressure, and, again, I need to say thank you. Like we said, one week, we’ll, yeah, we’ll try this, and see if it can work, and if it doesn’t, I promise, I’ll -- I don’t actually know what I’ll do, but I’ll figure something out. And, again, thank you, for trying. This. I know you don’t want to do this, and it means a lot that you’d make yourself-- that, yeah. Thanks. And I should probably stop talking because you’re starting to smell like you’re going to cry, and that’s you know, not ideal. So. yep. Shutting up, but just one more time, I promise if you hate this I’ll go find the Chris that couldn’t handle soup again, and he can just--”

Bucky moved fast when he finally decided to. 

The hand that slipped around Tony’s shoulders, up his neck and into his hair was confident and strong. It was amazing. The way it tilted his head to the side to give Bucky better access to his throat. The dominance that came out of nowhere and made the corner of his brain that was still a caveman whimper something about Strong Alpha good for mating. The rasp of stubble as Bucky buried his nose in Tony’s neck and rolled his chin up, smearing his scent along Tony’s skin and whiting out coherent thought with a wave of needy lust. That lasted barely more than a few seconds before the realization that they were doing this sent tension chasing after. 

“M’not doing anything but this, Tony.” Bucky whispered into his neck. “Just this. You know me. M’not scary. Only got one arm, how scary can I be?”

Laughing at the well worn joke, ignoring the way it had always been a little too honest, Tony forced down the anxiety in his scent and tucked his nose in to breathe. 

God. Damn. 

Bucky had always scented something beautiful: cedar and smoke and snow. But it was muted. Everytime Tony got a brief whiff of Bucky’s natural scent, it was buried or dull. 

This?

There wasn’t much else in Tony’s head except: God. Damn. 

He could suffocate on it and die smiling. 

He could live on it. 

And for this one week, he planned to. 

Nuzzling closer, Tony sucked in another breath. 

Bucky smiled, and they were pressed so close, Tony felt the movement against his neck. “See? Nothing to worry about. It’s just me.”

It was barely noon, there were bagels on the counter uneaten, Tony had only had one pot of coffee so far, he was in the arms of an alpha, and a countdown began in his head. One week, and then he had to be the better man, and let this alpha go. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is being written as motivation for someone to clean their room.  
> Not me. I'm in a hotel right now.


End file.
